


Give Me What You Alone Can Give

by bela013



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-23 17:47:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1574270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bela013/pseuds/bela013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some things work better than even the best mathematical predictions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give Me What You Alone Can Give

Curiosity was a curious thing, and such statement was true, even if a bit silly to say out loud. Those that were plagued by a thing like curiosity had something akin to an unquenchable thirst for knowledge. A thirst similar to the one she harbored at the end of a long shift on the medbay, only on her case, she would rather go for a warm tea with a splash of something stronger in it, than to multitask on her omini tool.

The last part was directed to the salarian scientist who sat with her on her quarters. It was better this was, she had a proper desk for them to sit by, while in his own quarters, there was only the minefield of the countless projects that he worked at the same time.

Karin sipped from the white tea cup that was common at the Normandy, not as crude as the standard Alliance mugs, but not as fancy as one she's find on restaurants on the Citadel. The strong taste of the black tea was a nice mix for the whiskey she she poured on the cup, it was better this was, she was not as young as she used to, to drink it straight, and not that old to poured it in her coffee and dull the kick of the alcohol.

Warmth spreed over her face, coming down her neck and settling nicely on her stomach, it was all very pleasant, almost too pleasant, for the feeling of a three fingered gloved hand coming to rest upon her free one was nearly drowned by it.

A couple of months before, Mordin had come to her with a proposition. Those were the words he used, and he was far too methodical and her translator far to good to have made a mistake in it, which left her in wait of what he'd say. She had studied salarian biology to further her medical abilities, so her damned curiosity was picked by the fast talking scientist. The myths surrounding his species on the human circles that she frequented were intriguing, and she would be lying if she were to say that she had no interest on what a member of a race more bent of the academical side of life had to propose to her.

One of his fingers run a line on the upper side of her wrist, dragging over the fine hair of her arm. It made a round, dragging over the tendons of her wrist, pushing at them with precision. The pressure was pleasant, making her release a sigh on her tea cup. This was a good was to spend the little free time they shared.

His proposition was different than the ones she hear during her life as a military doctor. On his words, it was a calculated match on his side. They shared interests, a similar work field, and a general view of the universe and its needs, since they were both helping Shepard. All would have fallen in deaf ears if he wasn't quick to add his fascination with her voice, and the way her fingers would move.

It hadn't been a lie. The way in which he would cares her hand whenever they were alone, spoke of this. His own hand was far too different from hers, but he would cares each of her fingers with his own finger tips, from the ridges of her knuckles to the outline of her nails. Karin had felt something bubble from her stomach, a heat that climbed its way towards her face, when he touched that was for the first time.

Mordin had confirmed the things she heard about salarian sexuality. Saying that his interest in her was something his mind craved, not his body. And if his mind craved her, there was nothing he could do, but sate his need to know everything about her.

The omini tool that kept his distracted thus far, vanished in a second, and his now free hand reached for the cup she still possessed in her hold. Prying it from her fingers and setting it on its saucer at the far end of the table. There wasn't a resentment in her by the fact that Mordin put his work as a priority. It was reliable, and took the pressure off their relationship. The type of relationship she needed in the tiring time there were in.

His chair made a soft scraping noise on the floor as he dragged it towards hers, never letting go of her rand, only drawing circles on palm. When he sits again, the tip of his knee are between her thighs, brushing on the inner side of the left one. Her breath hitched at the sudden intimate contact. This was the closest he'd been to her on their somewhat three months together.

He stood still, even his hand stopped moving, it was too still for him. Karin was so used to see him fidgeting about, tinkering with his omini tool, or playing with her hand. For a second, she was afraid of casual touch on her thigh. Maybe it was too much for her, too invasive. In an attempt to comfort him, she grasp for his thin shoulders, and is only to take a breath, a breath she'd use to apologize and offer him a way out, when his moment resumed.

The hand was back to its task, taunting her with the most innocent of movements, drawing a circle on her palm before tracing a line on one of her fingers, only to repeat it with another finger. He would push her fingers backwards slightly, and it was almost as if he was massaging her back and stretching out her arms. That salarian was a sly one, he knew what he was doing and what it would make her few. Maybe, his stillness hadn't been a shyness or rejection from his part, maybe he was only testing the waters, seeing if he was allowed to get closer.

Mordin most certainly too the presence of her hand on his shoulder, a hand she allowed to roam from his neck to where the arm started, as an invitation to her personal space. Which was good, because it was exactly that. She would always respect his boundaries, waiting for a reaction, like him, whenever she was to start something. And she would enjoy the physical contact she could get from him.

Not being one to lie, Karin was forced to face reality. If Mordin craved her mind, she craved his as well. If he was a human man, he'd be too young for her, and if he was a human man of her age, he'd be too dull, to conformed with the end of his life. What fit perfectly to her life was him, with as much wisdom as her, someone who know how things were, but only saw death as a dead line to be rushed to and ignored at the same time. And there was the energy, the same energy she had, even if sometimes her body betrayed her and faltered in his task of keeping up with her mind.

This relationship was the same. Three months might have been enough time in normal circumstances, but there were too busy with their respective jobs at the Normandy to dedicate 100% of themselves to a something else. But if this 100 was to be broken upon the joined free time that they shared, they could move to a pace that could have been too fast for the small hours that was bundled together, but was nice and comfortable to people who knew what they wanted and weren't fond of dancing around a problem.

His omini tool came back on, and with quick movements, her personal stereo hummed a soft song. It was an old song from Earth, he was so fond of them. That silly salarian was too fascinated by old things from her planed, probably why he seamed so enamored with her.

"Will you dance with me before I have to leave for my shift?"

It was the first time either of them said anything that night. And it felt so comfortable, that she stood up with him in tow, and they both feel into a slow one-two step. Because it was comfortable, and quite pleasant too.

**Author's Note:**

> They were dancing to [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NDgncPD0bew) from Louis Armstong.
> 
> And I've been meaning to write this song for one year now, and I gotta say, it got just as I wanted it. Which is a miracle on it's own.


End file.
